“The stones grow up like trees” by Marianne Worthington

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After the Harpeth River
rose from its shores
and washed away all she had
(except her dogs), she started
hunting for her remnants
after the waters withdrew–
blue willow plates sticking
up from the mud like tomb
stones, the guts of a Mr.
Coffee, wooden spoons in a bush.

As the River coughed up
what it had swallowed,
she made friends
with it banks, stacking
and balancing
river rocks, assembling towers
of devotion, performance
art sensitive to the ebb,
restoring a balance where
the stones grow up like trees.

-Marianne Worthington

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